Seven Sleepers Dreaming
by dutchbuffy2305
Summary: Buffy and her friends dream some disturbing dreams one night...and Spike is in every one of them.


**Seven Sleepers Dreaming, **_by dutchbuffy2305_

Timeline/spoilers: somewhere after Showtime, no spoilers

Rating: R for squickiness

Disclaimer: Joss owns all

Feedback: Please do, to dutchbuffy2305@yahoo.co.uk

_*First Dreamer*_

When he saw his daughter coming down the stairs his breath hitched and he choked for a moment on his great pride in her. She looked radiant in her virginal white prom dress, her big eyes full of expectation. She floated down the stairs and he had a moment of fatherly concern for the ridiculous heels she was wearing. The dress was lovely, and there were even pockets for stakes and knives.

"Giles, look!" she said, and twirled around for him in the hall. Pity she never called him 'daddy'. The dress had floaty panels in the skirt that stood out while she danced and pirouetted for him. The bodice was held up by thin little straps and the cleavage… he looked away from the cleavage. She looked so grownup in that dress, it was hard to imagine she was only…

It was dark outside. He felt a slight panic at the thought of his little girl going out alone in the dark. Then he heard the sound of a motorbike pulling up and he shook his head at his own silliness. Why would she go out alone? Her date would pick her up. If only they could avoid the cemetery, everything would be all right. She didn't deserve cemeteries and crypts, she deserved sunshine and children. He felt great sadness that she would never have children. Then he became confused. How could he be so sure she'd never have children? Ridiculous fears, she was far too young to think of those things yet!

The doorbell rang. His daughter ran to open it and he grabbed her hand to keep her away from the door.

"Don't open it!" he heard himself say. "Don't let him in! He'll never go away again!"

"Giles!" she said reproachfully. "Don't be silly! He's like a son to you!"

The door opened. He tried to see whom she was letting in but he couldn't see the face. It was very important that he see it, but his daughter's honey-blonde head was obscuring his vision. He tried to step closer but couldn't move. They receded from him. His daughter waved at him, but she grew smaller and smaller and he looked in horror at the big hand that was coloring her sweet white dress red, red as blood….

He held on to her tightly while the bell rang. She struggled to get loose and open the door to whatever was standing out there. He knew he had to be firm with her; otherwise the consequences would be so terrible! He bent her over his knee and spanked her. It hurt him more than it hurt her. He was spanking her bare bottom and the globes of her ass were turning red, and he watched his hands beat her harder and harder and the red blood coming out of there mad a lovely contrast to her skin and dress. It was so exciting to do that to her, he'd never done that and in a moment he would take himself in hand and…

The door opened. He looked in horror at who was standing there, who'd caught him red-handed with his pants down about to do…something terrible to his daughter, he had to protect her from whoever was doing terrible things to her, and he no longer had himself in his hand but a stake and he staked the evil shadow and

Giles awoke with a gasp and hammering heart. He vowed not to combine pizza, hamburgers and ho-hos again. God, what a nightmare. The scenarios one's subconscious churned out were truly horrendous.

_*Second Dreamer*_

He was trying to looking though the keyhole, the curiosity at what was going on inside more important than the fear of punishment if he were caught. He just knew they were doing naughty things in there, and a desire to join in warred with the notion that he should tell his parents. They would be punished and he would be the good boy for once, and get kisses and candy.

First he better check about the kissing in there. Yes, they were kissing! He got a very funny feeling in his belly and pressed his eye closer to the door. If their parents knew about the kissing! Hooey, they would be so angry. His feet did a little dance from excitement. The Bad Man was feeling her boobies! Oh, he was tearing her shirt off! He could see them bare! The Bad Man was taking his clothes off as well. They would be so punished if they were caught. His eye was riveted on what they were doing. What exactly were they doing, he couldn't see, he wasn't close enough!

He wished he was the Bad Man, so that he could feel her bare skin under his hands. Suddenly he was bigger and he knew exactly what they were doing, and he still wished it was him in there, in her bed. He stood next to the bed, blinking, and covered his hardness in shame. He wasn't supposed to want it, he was supposed to be the friend. They looked up from what they were doing. The Bad Man slid out of the Girl, and motioned him over, to take his turn. Yes, that was as it should be, it was not fair that he never got a turn. If she was putting out for the Bad Man, why not for him? He climbed in and shoved himself in the hot wet place the Bad Man had been. 

He came immediately and babbled in shame and confusion when he slid out of her. The reproof in her eyes….

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't know it wasn't my turn…"

"You have to be punished," the Bad Man said, and he cringed in anticipation of the beating. The slaps to his bare bottom, when they came, were painful, but with them came such pleasure as he had never felt before. 

He groaned. "Please, punish me, I must be punished. I've been bad…"

The Bad Man punished him harder, and when he felt the tip of something cool and hard probe his ass he knew what was coming and it made him so hot. He wanted this punishment even more than the beating. He looked into the Girl's eyes, and she had been watching the whole time and the condemnation in her eyes was awful. He put his hands on her throat, she deserved to die for her betrayal and he was just so angry and she was turning blue, and when she became still the pleasure was so great he thought he'd die too. The Bad Man was still punishing him and he was now so happy to have the Bad Man all to himself, he turned around for a kiss and a hug, he wanted the congratulations for getting it right. But Spike looked at him with anger in his golden eyes for killing Buffy and now nobody loved him anymore and he killed Spike with his own stake.

Xander woke with sticky boxers, and a feeling of such utter shame and humiliation that he cried in his pillow.

_*Third dreamer*_

She looked down at her hands. They seemed so big. She put them on Buffy's breasts, and she could easily cup them. They kissed very softly and sweetly, and she breathed in the scent of Buffy's hair deeply. Their hands roamed over the rounded hillocks and vales of each other's bodies, and she felt a vague surprise at the ease and the naturalness of it all. She'd never thought Buffy would…

Desire grew more urgent, and her hands strayed to Buffy's thighs, and her finger spread the soft lips open and made them slick with the liquid she found already there. She kept her eyes on Buffy, and saw her back arch, and moan with closed eyes. She pushed Buffy's head down, and Buffy started to kiss her thighs. Buffy licked and kissed her down there and she felt so different from Tara, but just as delicious.

An unusual feeling was growing in her groin and she could hardly keep her hands off herself; but she had to concentrate on Buffy, it was always all about Buffy, she always came second, so now it was her turn. She gripped Buffy's shoulder hard and shuddered when her orgasm hit her.

Hurried now, she positioned herself atop Buffy and drew up the golden knees, grasping her big member to put in Buffy. In horror she looked down at her body, look mama, no breasts, the hard white musculature, the dark curls surrounding her thick white…

Willow didn't wake, but flung her dreaming self in the comforting arms of dream Tara.

_*Fourth dreamer*_

She knew they shouldn't be doing it, but they were both sad and drunk and it felt so good to be listened to, to be taken seriously, not to make the Boy ashamed, because she always always said the wrong thing and he didn't want them to think she was different, that she didn't belong, and he was afraid not to belong because he never had…

The table was hard under her shoulder blades, and the Vampire pushed up her skirt and she guided him in there, it felt good, and he knew how to pleasure a woman, didn't have to be taught everything, which was nice. It felt good, but not as good as she'd hoped and when she looked into his eyes she could see he was already regretting it. That he would finish it for her but he really wanted to be with whoever she was, some vamp girl perhaps, what was her name Melody Rhapsody oh the shop bell rang, she had to get up and serve the customer..

But it was Buffy, Buffy looking down at them with such a stricken look on her face that she knew the woman he loved was Buffy, she had betrayed Buffy as she never meant to. She tried to say she was sorry and then Buffy staked him and the dust rained down on her lacy bra and all she could say was "You always kill the one you love."

And Buffy looked at her with terrible eyes and said, "No Anya, you're wrong there, you kill in anger and hate and I hate you for doing what I wanted to and now he's dead and so will you be", and she thrust the stake in her heart, spoiling her bra, and although she knew she couldn't die from it, it really, really hurt…

Anya whimpered and turned around in her lonely bed, clutching at the pillow that could never replace Xander. But she didn't love him anymore and wasn't going back.

_*Fifth dreamer*_

They sat on the white horse, galloping on the beach in the moonlight, and she felt his arms around her slender body, and it was all so romantic and sweet…He played with her long hair, she knew he loved long hair, and she'd dyed it blonde especially for him so she'd look more like her sister, because all the guys always liked her sister more…

And he whispered sweet nothings in her ear, she couldn't actually make sense of them but she supposed that didn't matter, and she wished she could see him, but of course he had to be behind her on the horse, on the merry-go-round, or it wouldn't be so romantic…

And she was so proud she'd been the one chosen at last, they were so alike, she was a green glowing thing and he wasn't a real boy either, so they fit so well together…They walked hand in hand through the surf, kicking the spray so that the glowy thingies in the water made little arcs through the air and she felt his hand, so cool and firm and she wanted him to kiss her, but she was too shy to ask him and of course he never would…

His hand slid out of hers and she waited, so sure suddenly that he would take her chin in his hands and lift her face to his to give her a sweet gentle kiss on her lips…

But when she finally turned to him, they were kissing, her sister and him, French kissing, and he was going for second base and it was not fair, she liked him first and she ran away, hard, they deserved to be worried when she was gone, then they would be sorry that they had never loved her best…

Dawn clutched her teddy bear to her chest harder, and whined a little in her sleep.

_*Sixth dreamer*_

They were sitting together on the swing seat on the porch, hand in hand, simply enjoying being together and he was reciting a poem to her, sonnet eighteen. Her face was turned to his and her eyes shone, and she loved him. He was sure of the love in her eyes.

One by one all her friends passed by and lifted their hands in greeting, politely, respecting their closeness and not butting in. They greeted back in a friendly manner, not needing anyone but the two of them, and they went in to fix dinner. And while she was fixing dinner – what would they eat? He ran the vacuum cleaner, because he always helped her around the house, he wasn't the kind of man who…who wouldn't…he was the kind of man who could be loved and who always helped his wife.

And they ate dinner, and they washed up together, and then they watched TV all night. They went up together, and she went into the bathroom and he…would not go into the bathroom again, of course not, but he needed to brush his teeth, cleanliness was next to godliness, but the bathroom resisted him, and finally he gave up and brushed his teeth in the kitchen. It was clever of him to circumvent that difficult patch, and they got into bed together, and they kissed goodnight, goodnight, darling he said, but the demon wouldn't get down and started kissing her and that would lead to the bathroom, no of course not, and why couldn't a man kiss his wife, he could make love to his wife if she was willing and not hurt and not lying on the bathroom floor crying and they weren't in the bathroom they were in bed! 

And he kissed her and she kissed him back and whispered something in his ear that he didn't catch and he felt tears in his eyes, because he would never hear it when she said it, he just wasn't equipped to hear it, even now…And they made sweet love, no violence, no blood, no scratching or hitting or shouting or tying up or pounding her into the floor so hard…no! Sweet love, gentle and joyful, if only the things wouldn't stare in from the window, who were they, who were all these people who looked in on them making love, tapping on the window and the door, demanding to be let in?

The tapping broke the windows and splintered the doors, and gods, they were on the roof too, any moment now it would cave in and all the people out there who were so angry with him for killing them would come in and they would never be undisturbed again. They were coming in even now and they were crowding them, the room was so full that Buffy and he were squashed together. Buffy couldn't breathe, he tried to push them away but they pressed in, tens of thousands of them, hundred thousands, just reckon, one per night for a hundred and twenty years, of course they didn't fit into Buffy's bedroom, and he felt Buffy die, felt her last breath leaving her and he couldn't hear what she said to him on her last breath it wasn't fair…

_*Seventh dreamer*_

"Don't go, Daddy!" she said, and the sandy-haired man looked at her sadly but he went anyway and left her alone in her house on the prairie. She knew it was her fault, he hadn't said but it was her fault. And her mother was still there but that wasn't enough. Her mother wanted him to leave, too.

"Don't go, Daddy!" she said, but her big dark Daddy looked down at her from his great height and said he knew best and he should go. They didn't say it was her fault but it must be, wasn't it always? It was her job to be right and if she got it wrong the world would end. They had done something wrong together, it had been good, she had wanted it, so big, so strong, she could be little again for a while, but it had been wrong. It was wrong to feel so good. She could see relief in her mother's eyes that he was gone.

"Daddy! Daddy!" she shouted up to him, but he pretended not to hear, held aloft by whirling blades up there in the heavens, looking down on her from a great height of moral superiority, he knew what was right and wrong, and she had missed her window of opportunity to learn it too.

"Don't go," she begged, still needing him. She wasn't that grown-up yet. But of course, he polished his glasses and left, like all daddies did, because she always got it wrong. She was wrong, she guessed. Not made for it. Best not expect it ever again.

This one was not a daddy, this one never said he was right, but he proved it time and time again. They were wrong together, not caring about right, and he put it in all the right and wrong places and she could forget about being wrong in his arms. Hours spent just sliding their bodies together, there needn't be shame anymore, she was as low as she could go, and it just felt so good, doing those wrong things to him, so beautiful and hard and strong, she watched it rooting around in her body, glistening with her juice, no need to look up to him, they were both down here at the bottom in the muck. But he proved he could go lower than that, she couldn't see him anymore and then he went off, too. She didn't ask him not to, not even in her mind. They never came back right, anyway.

But then he did come back, and he was made over, like new, and he asked her silently to make a new self, too, someone who could be loved and wouldn't be ashamed of it and didn't need a daddy. For the first time since her first daddy, she felt like a princess and she thought about kissing her frog to turn him into a prince. The whole court pressed up against her and tried to keep her away from the frog and she was afraid he would be squashed under their feet, he was only little and fragile. And they kept pulling at her clothes to keep her with them, and at her hair, and they were scrabbling and touching and needing and wanting and tearing at her and she felt herself being torn apart in little bloody pieces. They didn't want her anymore then, what with all the blood on their hands.

But the frog hopped up and changed himself into a prince and pasted all her pieces together and they lived happily ever after and all the courtiers fled in shame.

Buffy knew she had to save them all, that was still her job and it would never end. She woke him first, lying next to her twitching and moaning in his sleep, and he looked at her, such anguish shining from his sleepy blue eyes that she kissed him and told him she loved him before going out to save the others.

**********

Breakfast was weird and silent that morning, Buffy thought. Nobody seemed to want to look her in the eye. They all came in, noticed her, looked up long enough to grab their food and drink of choice and then looked down and ate and drank in absolute silence. She tried a harmless topic to break the silence.

"Did you sleep well tonight?" she asked Willow. 

END


End file.
